


In the Pink

by Rose_of_Pollux



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Genre: M/M, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-25
Updated: 2017-09-25
Packaged: 2019-01-05 10:18:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12188073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rose_of_Pollux/pseuds/Rose_of_Pollux
Summary: Illya is stunned to see Napoleon with a pair of garish pink pajamas, and is even more stunned to find out that he bought them for him.





	In the Pink

Illya was not in a good mood. The long flights required of their missions were difficult enough as it was, but once luggage shuffles got into the mix, it was downright vexing. An airport mix-up resulted in half of the passengers’ luggage being delayed until the following day, leaving Napoleon, Illya, and a lot of grumpy people to go to their hotels with only their carryon bags.

Napoleon hadn’t seemed too bothered by the ordeal; of course, things like this seldom ruined his good mood—especially when he was with Illya. Illya, on the other hand, couldn’t help but feel irked.

Illya had, thankfully, kept a backup set of pajamas in his overnight bag and hoped that Napoleon had done the same; it wasn’t something they thought of until a situation like this arose. Illya grumbled and complained under his breath as he brushed his teeth, finished washing up, and stepped out of the bathroom.

He then froze as he beheld the sight of Napoleon casually reclining on the bed wearing neon pink pajamas. He stayed silent for a full minute before finally managing to utter three words.

“What is _that_!?” he demanded.

“This would be classified as sleepwear, I believe,” Napoleon said, casually, grinning at the look on Illya’s face. “It’s my, ah, backup set, as you can see. I try not to wear it unless I have no choice—as I did tonight. But there’s no need to worry; once we get the rest of our luggage tomorrow, I can go back to my favorite set of imported silk pajamas. I can handle one night of cotton or polyester or whatever this is.” He playfully tried to reach for the tag in the back and then pretended to abandon the effort.

Illya, on the other hand, was still looking dumbfounded and still trying to struggle to speak.

“I always took you for a man of style!” the Russian sputtered at last.

“Oh, why, thank you!”

“So how do you explain owning something this garish!?”

“Elementary, my dear Illya; obviously, I would only keep such a thing if it was a gift from someone very near and dear to me.”

“Well, it couldn’t be Mother; she has good taste, too,” Illya said. “…Was it your father, then?”

“Are you kidding? Ma wouldn’t let it in the house!”

“True,” Illya admitted. “But the only other person close enough to you for you to keep such a thing would be me, and I would never buy… _this_!”

“Well, not when you’re sober, anyway.”

Illya, who had been about to say something else, froze before the words were out of his mouth.

“…What…?” he managed, after a few moments.

“Well, do you remember about three months ago when I rescued you from that THRUSH satrap?” Napoleon grinned as he saw the look of dawning horrific realization on his partner’s face. “Yeah, you were still a little high on whatever truth serum they’d given you, but you didn’t seem to be in any sort of hysteria, so Medical gave you clearance to go home as long as I looked after you. So, I took you home, but on the way there, you insisted at stopping off at a store and buying me a present. Naturally, I tried to convince you to forget the idea, but, ah… Your drug-fueled self was very persistent. And you chose this set of pajamas. Again, I tried to convince you not to, but you insisted.”

Illya clearly had no recollection of what he had done and said during his time under the influence.

“…Are you serious?”

“I had a feeling you wouldn’t recall anything, so here’s the proof,” Napoleon said, holding up the receipt.

Illya took the piece of paper and flinched.

“That is my charge card,” he admitted. “And my signature.” He looked at the pajamas in disbelief and flinched. “But why did you not tell me after I’d sobered up? I could have returned them!”

“Because, as you’ve often reminded me, I’m a sentimental softy, and so, I wanted to keep the present you gave me,” Napoleon said, grinning. “Besides that, I was waiting for a moment like this!”

Illya groaned, facepalming.

“But it isn’t who you are!” the Russian protested. “And I shudder to think what this reveals about my subconscious.”

“Probably that you want an excuse to get them off of me as soon as possible,” Napoleon teased.

Illya considered this.

“I will go with that for the sake of easing my brain,” he said, running a hand through his hair in vexation.

Napoleon grinned and then indicated the spot on the bed beside him. Illya shook his head and got into bed, but he felt slightly better as Napoleon wrapped his arms around him. Still, he let out a last sigh.

“I wish you could have let me know before three months; we can’t possibly return these now.”

“Oh, but I told you, Illya; you gave them to me as a present, and I cherish this gift,” Napoleon said.

“I could have exchanged them for a reasonable set, then—it would have been as good a gift!” Illya protested.

“Well, these pajamas _work_ ; they’re hardly faulty,” Napoleon replied, cheerfully. “I’d say that’s reasonable.”

Illya gave him a long, deadpan stare.

“And they are surprisingly comfortable, too,” Napoleon continued. “Say, how about I buy a matching set for you?”

“ _What_!?”

“Well, it doesn’t have to be the same color! How about neon green? That’d go well with this pink--”

“ _Nyet_!” Illya exclaimed, looking scandalized. “You needn’t joke like that! …You are joking, aren’t you?”

Napoleon responded with a mischievous chuckle, prompting Illya to groan in utter vexation.

It was going to be a long night and a long mission.

But as Napoleon’s hug tightened around him, Illya was able to relax and finally managed a smile.

Well, perhaps it wasn’t going to be so bad after all.


End file.
